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Namam 2011 Onam Program Souvenir © Namam Inc.
Onam 2011
Nair Mahamandalam
& Associated Members
www.NAMAM.org
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Namam 2011 Onam Program Souvenir © Namam Inc.
With Heartfelt Blessings from
His Holiness
Swami Shantananda
Chinmaya Ashram, Cranbury, NJ
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Namam 2011 Onam Program Souvenir © Namam Inc.
President’s Message
Onam is the most important festival of Kerala and it is celebrated
with immense joy and fervor all over the state by people of all
communities, and also across the world wherever Malayalees are
present. It is welcomed with a special enthusiasm and zest that
transcends religious and geographic boundaries.
On this auspicious occasion, I would like to not only extend my
heartfelt wishes to the entire community, but also ask each of you
to spread the message of peace, joy, fraternity, equality and peace-
ful co-existence of the Mahabali era by sharing the quintessence of
our rich heritage and culture with the next generation of Malayalee Americans; so that they can cherish and continue the dream of
our legendary emperor.
മാവേലി നാട് ോണീടുും കാലും......
Madhavan B. Nair
NAMAM Founder & President
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Compiled by: Jayakrishnan K. Nair
ക ടം ക ഥ ക ള്‍
Namam 2011 Onam Program Souvenir © Namam Inc.
With Best Compliments from:
Chitra Menon & family
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Namam 2011 Onam Program Souvenir © Namam Inc.
Best Compliments from the family of:
Madhavan B. Nair
Namam Founder & President
Best Compliments from the family of:
Geatesh Tampy
Namam Vice President
Best Compliments from the family of:
Jayakrishnan K. Nair
Namam Secretary
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Namam 2011 Onam Program Souvenir © Namam Inc.
Best Compliments from the family of:
Prem Narayan
Namam Treasurer
Best Compliments from the family of:
Jay Kullambil
Member, Executive Committee
Best Compliments from the family of:
Sajith Kumar
Member, Executive Committee
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Best Compliments from the family of:
Asha Vijaykumar
Member, Executive Committee
Best Compliments from the family of:
Ram Cheerath
Member, Executive Committee
Best Compliments from the family of:
Geetha Nair
Member, Onam Committee
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Namam 2011 Onam Program Souvenir © Namam Inc.
NAMAM Onam 2011 Program Agenda
11:00 AM - Welcome Mahabali into
the Auditorium
11:15 AM - Prayer Song
11:25AM - Lamp Lighting by Swamiji
Shantananda & Committee
11.30AM - Cultural Programs by
Ms. Malini Nair & others
12:00 PM - President’s speech
12: 15PM - Swamiji’s speech
12:30PM – 2:00 PM - Onam Sadya
2:00 PM – 4:00 PM - Sports Activities
(Lemon Race, Musical Chair, Vadam Vali etc.)
4:00 PM - Prize distribution
4.30 PM - Vote of Thanks by Vice President
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Compiled by: Jayakrishnan K. Nair
Namam 2011 Onam Program Souvenir © Namam Inc.
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Namam 2011 Onam Program Souvenir © Namam Inc.
Conquest of the Universe and Banishment
J. Panicker
Mahabali
The legend of King Mahabali is perhaps the most popular and the most fascinating of
all legends! Onam is a celebration of the visit of King Mahabali every year. The festival
is celebrated with fervour as King Mahabali is greatly respected by his subjects. King
Mahabali is also popularly called Maveli and Onathappan.
Mahabali – geneology
First we start with Aditi and Diti. Without getting into too many complications about their origins, Aditi’s children
turned out to be the deavs or the godly sort and Diti’s through her lusty and untimely association with Kashyapa
became the daityas or asuras. One such asura son Hiranyakashipu fathered Prahlada, who then fathered Virochana. Mahabali was born to Virochana and Viktare. Bana is Mahabali’s son and he fathers not one, but 4 crores
of asuras named Nivatakavacas. So that in short establishes the lineage of Mahabali.
Mahabali’s son Bana, who became a legendary king in his own right and became popular as Banraj in central Assam. Though Mahabali belonged to the Asura (demon) dynasty, he was an ardent worshiper of Lord Vishnu. His
bravery and strength of character earned him the title of "Mahabali Chakravathy" or Mahabali – Bali the Great !
Bali, an asura, son of Virochana grew up under the tutelage of his grandfather, Prahlada, who instilled in him a
strong sense of righteousness and devotion. Bali would eventually succeed his grandfather as the king of the Asuras, and his reign over the realm was characterized by peace and prosperity. He would later expand his realm –
bringing the entire universe under his benevolent rule – and was even able to conquer the Paataala (underworld )
and Heaven, which he wrested from Indra and the Devas. In Heaven, Bali, on the advice of his guru and advisor,
Sukracharya, had begun the Ashwamedha Yaga so as to maintain his rule over the three worlds.
Challenge for Devas
Looking at the growing popularity and fame of King Mahabali, Devas became extremely concerned and worried !
They felt threatened about their own survival and began to think of a strategy to regain their place. Aditi, the
mother of Devas sought the help of Lord Vishnu (the preserver in the Hindu trinity) whom Mahabali worshiped.
Mahabali was very generous and charitable. Whenever anybody approached him for any help he never refused.
Vamana Avatar
Lord Vishnu disguised himself as a poor Brahmin dwarf, called Vamana, and approached King Bali. Vamana told
Bali he was a poor Brahmin dwarf and needs a small piece of land. The generous King asked how much land he
wanted. The Brahmin said that he wanted only as much as three foot steps. The King was surprised to hear that
but agreed. The learned advisor of the King, Shukracharya sensed that Vamana was not an ordinary person and
warned the King against granting the wish. But, the generous King replied that it would be a sin for a King to back out on
his words and asked the Brahmin to go ahead.
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Just as King Mahabali agreed to grant the land, Vamana began to grow and expand and eventually increased himself to the
size of cosmic proportions. With his first step the Brahmin boy covered the whole of earth and with the second step he covered the whole of the skies. Vamana then challenged King Mahabali to provide him space for the third step !
The King realised that he was no ordinary Brahmin and his third step will destroy the earth. Mahabali with folded hands
bowed before Vamana and offered him to place his third step on his head so that he could fulfill the promise. The Brahmin
placed his foot on the head of the King, which pushed him to Pataala, the underworld. There the King requested the Brahmin to reveal
his true identity. Lord Vishnu then appeared before the King in his original form ! The Lord told the King that he came to test him and the
King won the test. King Mahabali was pleased to see his lord.
King Mahabali requests return visits to Earth
The King was so much attached with his Kingdom and people that he requested that he be allowed to visit the Earth once a year. Lord
Vishnu was moved by the Kings nobility and was pleased to grant the wish. He also blessed the King and said even after losing all his
worldly possessions, the King would always be loved by Lord Vishnu and his people.
Genesis of Onam
The story goes that Kerala was once ruled by the Asura (demon) king, Mahabali. The King was greatly respected in his kingdom and was
considered to be wise, judicious and extremely generous. It is said that Kerala witnessed its golden era in the reign of King Mahabali. Everybody was happy in the kingdom, there was no discrimination on the basis of caste or class. Rich and poor were equally treated. There
was neither crime, nor corruption. People did not even lock their doors, as there were no thieves in that kingdom. There was no poverty,
sorrow or disease in the reign of King Mahabali and everybody was happy and content.
It is the day of the visit of King Mahabali to Earth, that is celebrated as Onam in Kerala. The festival is celebrated as a tribute to the sacrifice of King Mahabali. Every year people make elaborate preparations to welcome the King who was affectionately called Onathappan.
They wish to please the spirit of their King by depicting that his people are happy. Thiruvonam is the biggest and the most important day
of this festival. It is believed that King Mahabali visits his people on that day.
Onam celebrations are marked in Trikkakara, a place 10 km from Kochi (Cochin) on the Edapally- Pookattupadi road. Trikkakara is said to
be the capital of the mighty King Mahabali. A temple with a deity of 'Trikkakara Appan' or 'Vamanamurthy' who is Lord Vishnu himself in
disguise is also located at this place. Nowhere else in Kerala can one find a deity of 'Vamanamurthy'. This fascinating legend is also artistically depicted at the Suchindram Temple in Kanyakumari district of Tamil Nadu.
J. Panicker
Monroe, NJ
With Best Compliments from:
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Recollections and Reflections
Asha Vijayakumar
It was 35 years ago, my father was transferred to what was then called Bombay. I had completed the 8th grade in New Delhi as an
average student, somewhat shy and self-conscious. 35 years have gone by, memories buried deep. In an effervescent world with changing
responsibilities rarely a thought was entertained to the formative years of my life . With this wonderful reunion memories like creatures
buried in sheets of ice and snow have resurfaced fresh, defeating time itself. Some clear as crystal, others hazy like sun’s rays penetrating
through a cloud.
As I sit to write reflecting on the days bygone, perhaps one of the most important years which would impact our lives for the remainder
of our existence, I am struggling to sift through the various anecdotes, clearing the mist from my eyes with a blink , as if that will bring
more clarity to understanding that 16 year old school girl in glasses and a thick-oiled braid. Since then these traits have been discarded
more as a declaration of independance from parental regime than the need for aesthetic enhancement.
It was the summer of 1974, when my father decided to move us from New Delhi to Bombay. Change of any kind, always comes with its
set of challenges, heart aches, memories left behind, fear of the unknown, yet the exhilaration of tredding through uncharted waters.
Which emotion takes precendence depends on the individual.
I was shy and growing up in New Delhi, I had been the target of racism, not a kind word. I was that 'Madrasi in a Punjabi land.'
Somehow India of my childhood was still divided into an Aryan and Dravidian race. Ironically Hitler had a soft corner or a "thing" (as
Americans' deem) for all Indians, assuming us to be Aryans. He perhaps had never heard of Dravidians! Suprisiginly that was the only
period of my life where I might have felt alienated or to put it bluntly, racially discriminated. Of course, my mother states that I was then
a sort of a leader among my peers. A trait if I had then I seem to have lost over the years and don't care for anymore. In Bombay, where
we stayed, somehow everybody was a "Madrasi" and the school I went to NBWSS was no different. And all these words, "Madrasi,
Punjabi," which were meaningless to begin with, had no meaning and no power to affect my emotions.
A week had passed, since leaving Delhi. I did not miss it at all. My mother who had been attuned to numerous family lunches,
gatherings and gossip suffered from seperation angst for years, the ache waning as the years passed by.
Summer was long, I still had no friends in this new land. I would see a few girls laughing and talking but as much as I longed to be a part
of that comraderie, the concept of introducing myself to strangers had not occured to me then. 35 years later I would have no
compunction doing just that.
A few weeks later, a very fair thin girl came upto me, her thinness accentuating her long crooked nose, something she had no reason to
be bashful about, but it did cause her subtle fleeting moments of anguish. She was bolder and braver than me for sure. She stated that
she was Indira, very assertively. Little did I know then, that this would be the beginning of a friendship which would last through storms
and calm, marriage and raising children, illness and disease, to end only with the end of her journey. There were intervals of silence, as
she moved from our childhood residence to the house she shared with her husband and in-laws. And as I left India for Saudi and Canada.
Our rendezvous' were restricted to my annual vacations in India, those were not the days of email and instant messaging or mobile
phones, and letters were far and infrequent. Everytime I met her, I was struck by the wisdom and weight she had gained over the years. I
began more and more to lean on her wisdom, specially durng my transition to India.
A year before her death, she had said, "I want to teach people, I want to teach about life, All what I have learnt." I stared at her in my
naivety, not able to comprehend then the depth and meaning of what she meant.
I moved to India in 1999 ostensibly to acclimate my children to the Indian culture. (A move which has enhanced their understanding of
cultures, letting them blend into each, as a lime squeezed into water. A move they and I are grateful for,) but intrinsically and more
selfishly to fulfill my own need. I had left the shores of India, as a young bride, fascinated by the new worlds I had been introduced to. Life
in Saudi seemed magical to me. India was only 4 hours away!
It was only when we moved to the West I felt as if the umbilical cord had for the first time been brutally severed. India became a
fascinating fantasy. Little did I realize that I was fantasizing about my carefree childhood India, that just as I had changed, India too had
changed, ironically at an even faster pace. As I was swinging between my dreams and a dream world, I was jolted back to reality.
It was the summer of 2001, I went to visit her at the Hospital a few times. We never discussed her condition. She didn't want to.
Conversations centered around my decision to start afresh in the United States.
All she said was "I am a winner and I will come out of this." She believed in the Power of Mind over matter. I did too.
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But the cancer was relentless. It had eaten her bones, the pillar of the human body, even at the time of diagnosis. It wouldn't be too
long before it encroached on her vital organs. The only area it failed and failed miserably was in its ability to penetrate her mind. She was
resilient. I hugged her as I hurried to the airport. She walked me to the door wishing me good luck. I wasn't sure if I would see her again. I
had my doubts. I tried my best to hide them behind a fake smile. She must have guessed.
“See you next year,” she said as I was leaving. I did not look back, kept walking lest I unveil my fears, my doubts, my tears. I was skeptical
about the chemotherapy she had received. It was too aggressive, according to the oncologists I had consulted. I hinted that to her, but
she wanted to believe in the physician she had trusted her life with. I wasn't sure if the chemotherapy had expedited her death or the
extensive invasion of her body by the intruder. Either way she had been overpowered . I suppressed my doubts from surfacing again. It
would not have mattered.
I had left the shores of India, and was busy in my own world. Our correspondance was limited making me miserably guilty. I rekindled
our conversations, wrote a few peppy letters. She wrote back more to advise me about my situations (whether it was to my liking or not,)
always speaking her mind. I seemed to be the diplomatic one, pretending to accept whatever she said. Maybe in my own way I wanted
her to feel good. Gradually her letters stopped. A sinking feeling enveloped me. I finally found the courage to call her home. Her mother
came on line. Teary eyed, she said, in a motherly cajoling way, "Ask her to eat something. She needs the strength." Indira was not fighting
her fate anymore. She was resigned. She couldn't read my letters, but she would request her mother to read them to her.
Her mother remarked, "You have been a great friend. She loves your letters. I am glad she has a friend in you." I wasn't sure if I was
deserving of that compliment. I didn't feel I had done enough. She had been there for me more than she would ever know.
And then she was gone, resting peacefully in the arms of her mother, the woman who had birthed her, raised her, complained about
her, and like all mothers do, protected her. Indira's father was in his late 70's. That was the last time I spoke to them, more because I was
at a loss for words. Did they need consolation, or understanding or just to be left alone. Would my presence create a stronger pain in their
hearts which was already grieving.
A year or so later, I met with her husband ‘Pawar.’ She called him that and I did too. I saw her son who smiled at me and continued
playing with his toys. I felt I saw in his eyes a note of recognition. He knew me to be a friend of his mother's. I wondered what was going
through his mind. He was too engrossed. I remembered Indira's words, "I am trying to push him away, but he just gets closer to me." She
had prepared him for her death, which she herself had anticipated.
Pawar eventually married a woman who could not conceive a child of her own. Indira's son had been a precious baby, coming many
years into their marriage and Pawar had married a woman who would be able to give their baby undivided attention. I have not met with
them in years, Indira was the pivot around which all these relationships revolved. The pivot was no more, somehow, somewhere the
other relationships disintegrated.
As I write this, I am inclined to revisit a part of her. Her son who was 6 then, must be a teenager now. I am hoping he would be just
what she had envisioned him to be.
This would not be to rekindle the pain, for pain has a way of dissipating itself once accepted and with time, but more to tell him the
strength and resilience his mother had, the stories of our childhood, of her, Urmila and I in the school bus discussing the 1976 Olympics
and Nadia Comaneci's rise to Gymnastic stardum. Perhaps the only Olympic games I have watched with so much vigor and enthusiasm to
discuss the events frantically the next day on our ride to school.
I am sure he will be eager to absorb them. Yes, I will meet with him. To tell him that we studied for our exams together, we would talk
for hours, making our parents wonder what "under the sun" we talked day after day. Yes we talked about everything "under the sun."
She would stand 2nd in the class, and I 1st. She would study a few days before the exams and I would study everyday for that whole
year of SSC. Standing 1st in the class. Many of you have commented on that and asked me how that experience was. I shall not be
modest about that achievement in my life. It was not just a dream, it was a fervor , feverishly pursued. It was an achievement
unabashedly relished. It was a journey which transformed a shy, unsure child into a more self-confident girl. Absolute self-assurance came
only many many years later, but the foundation was set at that tender age.
I remember the spring in my steps as our headmaster, Mr. T.V. Subramanian enquired about me and a teacher described something
about me in a laudatory manner, and I overheard it. It did bring a smile to my face, my feet did a dance movement almost involuntarily.
Yes the adoration of the teachers, and the acceptance received definately created a sense of security in me. Looking back, that year in
school was an extremely happy one. Neela, Indira and our pranks, childish in nature, with malice towards none, organization of quizzes
and debates, the encouragement received in abundance from all our teachers, yes indeed all this and more was packed in that one year.
Laxmi-teacher teaching us the nuances of English. Jayashree-teacher teaching us geography of the world. (Recently, as we were driving
through America, I had the opportunity to revisit some of that education and explain to my children that 'this is the Tundra vegetation.' I
learnt 33 years ago.) Balakrishnan Sir imbibing Maths skills, which was then my favorite subject. Math and Music go together. Listening to
Mohammed Rafi and Lata Mangeshkar and solving calculus problems felt almost like a favorite past time.
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Sridevi-teacher leading us through the realm of physicality in nature, animate and inanimate. Sanskrit Sir and the translations. Yes,
translating Sanskrit to English verbatim created a funny sentence in English, meaningful yet meaningless by itself, almost like slapstick
comedy. I am unable to suppress a chuckle reminiscing those days and the classes. Koshi-teacher, Gemini-teacher, and Tiwari Sir each
dedicated to their craft. Learning was fun, it definately was not a chore. I remember clearly the day the results were to be announced, I
was encapsulated in a frenzy of fear. I got up sweating, ill with nervousness, the suspense unbearable, the results of a dream, a fervor,
exciting in itself which had pushed me that whole year were to be released.
My mom scolded me, "so what if you are not first, and what if you are first, it is no big deal." She was my leveler. Yet I clung to her
though angry that she had said that. Perhaps her intention was to decrease the blow in the event of disappointment.
I was first, people were congratulating me. To me it was just a relief. Just a relief. What my mother had said seemed true. It was no big
deal. I smiled and accepted the congratulations gracefully. I sensed pride in my father's eyes. My mother was not affected. Somehow I
myself was not affected. The elation if I felt lasted maybe a few minutes. Looking back the sojourn towards getting the prized certificate
was more exhilarating than the paper certificate itself. The certificate was just paper and it felt just that. This perhaps is true of all
achievements in life.
And though by no means do I wish to demean the accomplishment, it definately did bring in it’s wake periods of joy, acceptance, and
pure elation, it is also not a precursor of future success, and definitely not the only one.
Education, schooling is a trip to be cherished, relished and enjoyed. Luckily for all so us, we were in an alma mater where we had the
freedom to be what we chose to be. To receive unsurpassed attention, our teachers relating to us in the way they did, taking our interests
to heart, encouraging us all the way, reciprocating to our needs, imbibing in us strengths which still stay with us. Very few schools,
teachers and students can boast of the comraderie we share. This group NBWS which we have formed is a shining legacy of what was
handed over to us by our teachers and the culture of our school.
The invisible thread connecting us to our teachers, their dedication and devotion to their art and more importantly their caring words
have secretly shaped our lives, our destiny, unknown even to ourselves.
I consider myself very fortunate to be a part of the class of 1976 SSC at North Bombay Welfare Society's Secondary School.
Guru Brahma
Guru Daivom
Thank You Teachers!
Asha Vijayakumar
With Best Compliments from:
Sri. Chandrasekharan &
Smt. Thankamma Nair
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WITH BEST COMPLIMENTS FROM:
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Attorney At Law
MERIDIAN RD,STE #13
PH: 732 494 1888
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FAX 732 494 7771
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[email protected]
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The Two Motivations
Madhavan B. Nair
Desires manifest as two motivations in life: - Acquisition and enjoyment. You want to acquire
whatever you desire from the world. And after acquiring you long to enjoy whatever you have
acquired. You build a house and enjoy living in it. You prepare a tennis court and enjoy playing in
it. Etcetera.
Propelled by these two motivations every human being craves to acquire and enjoy more and
more in the world. He consumes the entire life chasing images of happiness. None has found
true happiness in mere acquisition or enjoyment. Yet the chase never ends. People are ultimately with their futile efforts and become frustrated and unhappy.
From the very beginning of the life the mind has a tendency to acquire the wealth of the world.
Yet it cannot qualify or quantify what it wants. The thirst for acquisition goes on and on. The
wealthiest man in the world wants more wealth. The most powerful seeks more power. The
most beautiful women would like a little more beauty. Human being faces a real problem in their
mind’s insatiable desire to acquire, to aggrandize and the consequent agitation and frustration.
The thirst cans never be quenched by sheer acquisition of whatever the mind demands. Neither
can suppressing the desire for acquisition solve the problem. In fact there is no taboo to acquisition. You are advised only to control, regulate the mind’s indiscriminate craving for acquisition.
The second motivation is the desire to enjoy what has been acquired. Here again, there is no objection to enjoyment. You are not to refrain from enjoyment what the world offers you but to restrain, control, your indulgence in them. The unrestricted craving for enjoyment agitates the
mind ruins your peace. You suffer. Also, you enjoy objects or beings only when you exercise voluntary regulation and moderation. If however you do not exercise control and plunge into indiscreet indulgence in sensual enjoyment you lose the charm of it. You cannot enjoy anymore. Unrestricted indulgence kills the enjoyment that you seek.
In truth there is no joy content in the objects and beings of the world. But it is extremely difficult
and impossible to convince the layperson that the world cannot provide the enjoyment he seeks
from it. He goes to an ice cream parlor and orders Belgium chocolate. He enjoys. He goes to a
bar and orders a peg of blue label scotch and revels in it. How can he be convinced that there is
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no joy content in them? Yet the truth remains that none can find enjoyment in the external
world.
The following is an example can perhaps help you examine the veracity of the statement. You sit
out in a garden with your family on a full moon night. You “enjoy” the beautiful moonlight. The
uneducated believe that the moon produces light. Just think. Does the moon really produce
light?? Does it have light in it per se?? No, not at all. Yet some believe that the light comes from
the moon. Educated as you are, you know that there is no light in the moon. Whatever arguments you put forth, the ignoramuses can never accept that there is no light in the moon. They
see the light is coming from moon. They experience it. They enjoy it. So it is impossible for them
to convince that the moon has no light.
So the masses lack the wisdom to accept the truth that there is no enjoyment in the world. Their
argument is similar. They can perceive the joy in the sense objects. And argue that they gain enjoyment out of them. Hence they can never accept there is no joy in the external world. You may
likewise hold on to your views but just ponder over the moonlight example.
Madhavan B. Nair
Reference: A Parthasarathy
With Best Compliments from:
Thomas Mootakkal
& Family
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NAMAM ONAM 2010
Last year’s NAMAM Onam celebrations were held on September 19th at Johnson Park,
Piscataway, NJ. Events included a procession for Emperor Mahabali (pictured), music,
dance and sports events, and of course a sumptuous Onam Sadya. A wonderful time was
had by all, and this year we are counting on you to help us repeat this success!
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NAMAM Ayyappa Pooja 2010
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NAMAM Vishu 2011
This year’s Vishu was celebrated on a grand scale by NAMAM on April 23rd at the Bridgewater Temple Auditorium. A cultural extravaganza of classical music and dance, orchestrated by the various prominent dance schools in New Jersey, enthralled the audience.
Top left: Felicitation of Participants; Top Right: President Mr. Madhavan Nair congratulates
child artists; Top Bottom: Namam Vishu Committee
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With Best Compliments
Mrs. Thankamma & Dr. P.G. Nair
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